The Apple Martini
by Meg28
Summary: Two people from Harmony find themselves at a loss, and meet each other in a most unexpected circumstance.


The Apple Martini: Chapter 1

He sat, painting on his usual frown. Not even the traces of approaching landscape amused him. The Crane jet had left Harmony a mere hour ago, and now, within a few short minutes, he would have reached his destination. To be exact, he actually had nothing particular in mind. "…somewhere away from Harmony," were his requests, vague yet demanding. He figured time away from every trace of that little town was best. It suddenly did not feel like home, more like a mockery of memories. Of people who gave him no pleasure, no zest as she had. But she was gone now. She no longer belonged to him.

"Mr. Crane, we have reached the destination. Please fasten your seat belt as we prepare for landing…" a voice instructed. He lazily obeyed, losing his focus on the window. Instead he studied his surroundings. He remembered the last time he flew in this jet. It was with her, her radiant smile, her eagerness. He noted the brandy glimmering across from him. He could see her now, in an almost, transparent like memory, holding a glass of her own, laughing as the bubbles would tickle her lips. Champagne was her favourite. He wondered with whom she would share her next flute. Her ex-husband?

Getting to the hotel was too easy. With a flicker of approval, his limo driver took a hold of the luggage the Crane had packed in an rushed manner. Julian recalled opening and shutting several drawers moments before departure, throwing in any article of clothing that managed to fall into the suitcase. What was the point of being precise, anyway? He could easily buy a whole new wardrobe with a swipe of his credit card. All that remained, in question, was how he would spend his time. He paused for a moment. He took a whiff of the air around him, noting too much cologne on his collar. He squinted into the approaching intersection a short distance away. Gradual noise had begun to enclose his ear drums, coming from every which way. He was in New York.

"Well if it isn't the devil himself."

The voice was familiar, especially the chuckle that followed.

"Bruce," Julian greeted his old friend with pressed force. He generally liked and tolerated Bruce, but he had no particular desire to communicate with anyone on his vacation. All he intended for was seclusion, away from anything and everything that would remind him of Harmony. Of his past mistakes. Of her.

"I haven't seen you ol' champ for what I can say is a year too long. I heard you hooked back up with that Russell chick…Emily?"

"Eve," he corrected Bruce without hesitation.

"Right, right, Eve. Well, that creature, luscious as she may have been, has brainwashed my old college buddy. I heard it was like a new Julian Crane had come to Harmony! Oh come on Julian, these things spread. I know you've grown soft. And for a woman? Man, I must say, I am rather disappointed in you."

"Disappointed or not, I simply care not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I would prefer to be in the comfort of my hotel room, not outside on the street arguing."

"Of course, of course. Hey, Julian, buddy. Why don't you join me later for a drink? We can catch up, ya know?"

"No." he answered simply.

His tone was cold yet Bruce failed to leave him be. For what seemed like endless moments of pleads and "come on" and "we can get through this together", Julian gave in. He had guaranteed Bruce one drink at the hotel's five star restaurant if, in return, he would not bother Julian the rest of the trip. Slapping him, rather too roughly on the shoulder, Bruce broke into his distinctive chuckle and walked off. Now he was alone…at least until 9 pm that evening.

And 9 pm had come a little too quickly. Julian tossed himself around, his moans muffled by the covers. He felt smothered by the fabric, as if he was moments away from suffocation. The whole afternoon was spent underneath the sheets and a hope of much needed sleep. He achieved only a mere few minutes of it in between consciousness. Time was being far too inconvenient. So was coincidence. Had it not been for his deal with Bruce, he would have spent the remaining of the night in his tangled sheets of misery.  
"Fuck Bruce." the words almost echoed, all too suddenly. He stripped himself off of the comfort of his fine sheets and forced himself in an upright position. The fabric on his suit was composed of wrinkles, ones that Julian could not simply swipe with the smoothness of his palm. He changed. He washed his face and sucked in whatever relief the cool water gave him.

He finally spotted Bruce seated at a booth, a half-empty glass at hand, accompanied with two empty ones that decorated the table. He sighed, turning off his cell phone and tucking it back safely into his inside pocket. As much as he dreaded the approaching occasion, he wanted no interruptions. Not a single phone call from Harmony. Nothing from Crane Industries. Nothing from Alistair. Nothing at all.

"There you are, Julian! I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

"I said I would come." he snapped a little too bitterly.

"Hey man, chill. I was just kidding around. Now, as much as I was surprised to see my old buddy here in New York, I think our meeting was fate."

Fate. He instantly thought of Theresa. In fact, Bruce himself made him think of Theresa. She was the subject to Bruce's last visit to Harmony. To his complete amusement, Bruce had made Julian believe he was married to Theresa up until the very last moment she had spent a great deal of the Crane fortune throwing it every which way to charities. Not that he cared anymore. He was no husband to her, legally or not. He figured at this very moment she was pawning away for Ethan and like that, he thought of Eve again. What was she doing now? What time was it in Harmony now? Was she sleeping, nestled in TC's loving embrace? Was she making love t--

"I ordered you a shot of tequila!" Bruce barked, his moustache twitching slightly whenever he would speak. "Hey, remember how we used to take in five at once? We used to always over tip those hot waitresses. Speaking of hot waitresses, there's one sweet one just lurking in our midst. Ahhh, where does time fly?"

"Indeed, time does fly by when you are growing apart from silly rituals."

"Ouch."

Julian apologized. He didn't know why. He scolded at the thought of spending the reminder of the day accompanied by what, he could only assume, would be advice of an already drunk Bruce. He flickered with the table cloth, letting the fabric twist around his finger playfully. He heard laughter across from him, beyond Bruce's bickering. A woman was shrieking in joy, embracing, whom Julian guessed to be, her fiancé. He proposed. She accepted. They would have an engagement. They would marry. They would he happy. And that was exactly how it should have been with Eve. But life, unfortunately, did not quite settle for Julian's planned agenda of the future.

"I guess I'm here in New York because of business. You know, the--" and at this cue, Julian dozed off. He appeared to pay attention, he even offered Bruce a nod every now and then, just enough acknowledgment that would keep Bruce talking for minutes at end. He let his mind wander every which way, always ending with this morning's events. He kept replaying the scenes in his mind a little too often for comfort. The calmness of her voice. The smirk on his face. The tears he fought. The pain he tried to push away, but then released once alone. She had already packed and he was helping her load things in their cheap little Honda. It played like a movie in his head. All he could do was watch. He was frozen then, just as he felt now. He did nothing, he said nothing, he could hardly remember to breathe. She just left him. Sure, her words tried to sound rash and logical, but nothing quite processed. Only her departing kiss and the slam of the door. Indeed, Eve Russell had gone back to TC Russell. And it was all arranged by the clever Rebecca.

Rebecca. Rebecca. The name angered him. It made his hands squeeze into tight curls of rage, his lips quiver, his knees shake. She reminded him into the early hours of the afternoon how Eve's decision was for the best.

"It was the right one, pookie. You and Eve never belonged together."

And what seemed to enrage Julian even more so, was the passion he felt to get revenge on Rebecca, not to win Eve back. Indeed, he loved Eve, but he would not waste his years pining away for her. He already made that mistake once. As much as he hated it, Julian chose to respect Eve's decision to be with TC. As long as it made her happy, he could in time accept her decision with content. But the idea of making Rebecca suffer the way he was now would be the sweetest prize. What a passionate delight it would be, to see Rebecca get her own just desserts.

"Look at the hot piece of ass on her." Bruce exclaimed in glee. Julian looked up. It was the same woman he saw just minutes before who accepted her boyfriend's marriage proposal. He distinctively made sure his frown was apparent, even for Bruce to spot.

"Oh don't frown at me like that, Jules," snapped Bruce, catching on. "A few years ago the Julian Crane I knew, the one I actually do really miss, would be right there on my side drooling. Come on, Julian. What is wrong with you? You're such a pussy."

"Bruce, that woman is with someone. Notice the man beside her. Her fiancé."

"She can have ten fiancés for all I care, Julian. The point is, you have grown weak. Spineless. You have no spunk. No personality. You've gone from the master, to this… sad little duckling one can not help but pity. You sit there, ashamed to even hold eye contact with anyone. Seriously, what the fuck has happened to you, man?"

His words had, of course, had crossed Julian's mind and he had expected to hear them once more. But still, he had no clear answer. He starred at his tequila shot, feeling small and pathetic. It felt like all the power, dignity and strength once possessed was sucked out of him like a vacuum. So, in one bold, mighty move, Julian threw his head back and mouthed in the tequila shot in its whole. The acidity burned at his throat. He winced for a moment, trying to get used to the sensation of alcohol again. But soon enough, it all began to feel familiar. It came in rather pleasing flashbacks. The smell of it in his nostrils, the taste it left on his lips, the accompanied haze of cigar smoke that would get caught in the dense air, despite being seated in the non-smoking area.


End file.
